


I Know I'm Not the Only One

by AmazonWorrier



Series: Deviations [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazonWorrier/pseuds/AmazonWorrier
Summary: “If you don’t already know how to fix it,” Quinn’s raspy voice is tinny through the phone line, “there’s no point in trying.”5x13 - Feeling nostalgic after Kurt and Mercedes' performance in the auditorium, Rachel tries to make amends with Santana. It doesn't quite go to plan for either of them.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez
Series: Deviations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177310
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	I Know I'm Not the Only One

Rachel’s not an idiot.

She knows she screwed up. 

But what else is one to do when a former high school tormentor shows up to audition for your understudy, if not overreact? By the time she had the sense to regret anything she'd said, they were too far gone. What little semblance of friendship Rachel and Santana had cultivated in the sanctuary of their humble New York loft was thrown out amid a flurry of harsh words and accusations, culminating in a single slap that Rachel's still fairly convinced Santana deserved, even if she regrets it.

Whether Rachel was justified in her fury seems irrelevant now, because Santana sure as hell seems determined to ruin her life whether that was her original intention or not. The worst part is that Rachel is reacting to it with equal fervour. It’s not rational, not one bit. But Santana brings that out in her. She always has, and Rachel suspects she always will. 

She calls Quinn, because Brittany sends her straight to voicemail and Rachel’s fairly sure the MIT genius has already heard about their feud and taken sides. Quinn sounds unsurprised, and offers no solution.

“If you don’t already know how to fix it,” Quinn’s raspy voice is tinny through the phone line, “there’s no point in trying.”

What does that even mean?

She mends fences with Kurt, because if Santana didn’t deserve to bare the brunt of Rachel’s little outburst, then Kurt deserved it even _less_. Even he’s at a loss for what to do, though, because Santana is acting like Rachel never lived with them in the first place and refusing to talk about it. 

Santana won’t admit she’s in the wrong and neither will Rachel. It's who they are, but at the same time it’s ridiculous, and frustrating. More and more time passes, and in the face of overwhelming scrutiny from everyone they know, Rachel begins to suspect they were both a little wrong and a little right. She decides to admit to that and apologise, as long as Santana goes first. 

They end up in the same row of seats on their flight back to McKinley together, and Rachel spends just as much time fearing Santana will throw her out of the emergency exit as she does trying not to fall asleep on her shoulder out of sheer habit. It’s awful, and confusing, and it only serves to make her even angrier; both at the girl, and the situation they’ve thrown themselves into.

Santana explodes at her in front of everyone in the choir room, and Rachel fights right back. It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve _always_ done, so why stop now? Rachel knows she’s won because she gets the last word in. She storms out, confident that everyone else in that room will view Santana as the bigger bully out of the two of them, and take Rachel's side even without context. Santana's an easy villain. She makes little effort not to be seen as such.

Mercedes finds her in the bathroom later, and they talk about rising above their ghosts. Rachel puts on an act so convincing she even fools herself for a moment. The dwarf and the cheerleader echo through the halls of McKinley and, in the heat of the moment, it’s almost too easy to forget how far they’ve both come in such short a time.

Rachel forgets about the time Santana took her to the doctor when she had a pregnancy scare, and the way she told no one about it afterwards; not even Kurt. She forgets the weeks where Santana bought her vegan ice cream and cooked them both dinner every night, because Rachel had lost Finn and Santana, grieving herself, didn’t know how else to help at the time. She forgets the nights at home in front of the TV, where they’d stay up late drinking wine and gossiping about everything from NYADA to the diner to Kurt’s questionable choice in living room decor. 

Rachel forgets the Santana that became her friend, because it’s easier than missing her.

Kurt and Mercedes sing that song for them in the auditorium, and it sets something off inside Rachel. She tosses in bed all night long, because now that the thought has taken up residence in her head it's proven a difficult tenant to evict. Rachel mentally lists out every reason to bother making amends with Santana and every reason not to. The cons outweigh the pros, ten to one. But that _one_ grows increasingly hard to ignore as the hours pass.

Rachel feels sick just thinking about it.

* * *

She finds Santana in the bathroom, reapplying her makeup as if she didn’t just do it half an hour ago. Rachel remains completely in awe of her routines. She could never keep that up for herself.

Her attempt at apologising goes horribly, and only serves to prompt Santana to button down on her plan to take Rachel down. It’s a fragile facade at best now that Rachel’s had time to think about it, but it hits all of those insecurities once again and Rachel finds herself striking back against all logic and reason.

“What is it about anymore with you, Santana?” Rachel calls out to her. Santana stalls with one hand on the door, ready to leave, “I just don’t get it.”

When Santana turns around, Rachel half expects to be yelled at or backed up against the sink and threatened again. That’s the way this usually goes, and this time with no witnesses she wonders if Santana might just be brave enough to take it further. The thought is quelled only by the tiny rational part of Rachel’s brain pointing out that of the two of them, the only person who has resorted to physical violence in the past is Rachel. 

What Rachel doesn’t expect is the deflated shrug she gets, coupled with the subtlest downward turn of Santana’s lips she’s only ever seen happen when her former friend is reminded of Brittany or her Abuela. It disarms Rachel completely, so much so that Santana is halfway out the door before she can think to stop her. 

They haven’t touched since Rachel slapped Santana in the face, and she probably should’ve picked a better moment than now to change that. Her hand closes around Santana’s wrist, and there's a flash of black as Rachel feels herself being forced back into the wall. She winces on impact, bracing for an attack that never comes. Once again Rachel quickly realises she’s unjustifiably assumed the worst of her ex-roommate.

Because Santana Lopez is kissing her.

* * *

She’s kissing Rachel Berry.

Why the fuck is she kissing Rachel Berry?

Santana recoils about as quickly as she dove in, and Rachel’s chest is heaving as heavily as her own. She’s not sure what came over her, only that Rachel has an aggravating tendency to misunderstand everything she does, and quite frankly Santana was sick of hearing it. So sick, that when Rachel grabbed her by the wrist for round two, Santana’s first instinct had been to shut her up the only way she knew how.

They’re alarmingly close to each other, but Santana can't bring herself to step away. Rachel’s breath puffs lightly against her cheek, and she can smell the perfume Rachel stole from her when she moved out. The very thought angers her so much she almost wants to strangle Rachel and be done with it, because she wouldn’t have had to steal it if she’d just stayed in the damn apartment to work things out properly.

There’s a hand gripping her waist now, and it must be Rachel’s because the angle is too awkward for it to be her own. Rachel’s eyes flicker down to her lips so briefly Santana almost misses it, but she knows she didn't imagine it because moments later Rachel’s lips are connecting with hers again and it feels scarily too close to coming home.

Rachel kisses the same way she performs. It’s showy and over the top, and Santana hates how much she loves it. Rachel pushes her tongue past Santana’s lips, melding with her own far too easily, and Santana considers slapping her for the triumphant smirk she feels forming against Rachel's lips when she lets out an involuntary moan. It's frustrating, because everyone in this damn place has spent the week reducing them both to their high school selves and Santana’s pretty sure a part of Rachel is smug about having the bitchy cheerleader who made her life hell for years at her mercy so easily.

It occurs to Santana that a part of her is also a little turned on having Rachel pinned up against the same bathroom wall she and Quinn used to write scathing messages about her on, and that thought is as perplexing as it is thrilling.

It shouldn’t surprise her when Rachel turns them around, pushing back at Santana so hard that she falls against the bathroom sink. But it does. She barely has the time to mumble her complaint before Rachel’s lips are clashing hungrily with hers again, and a thigh is finding its way between her legs, applying pressure in just the right way that makes Santana want nothing more than to drag them both into one of the stalls for a bit more privacy. 

“Well this explains a lot.” 

It’s a calm voice that breaks them apart. Santana recognises it the same way she recognises the sound of her own heartbeat. 

Brittany stands in the doorway, face cycling through about twelve emotions in the space of a single second. Santana’s afraid to watch where it might land, so she turns away.

It's pathetic the way she and Rachel scramble to tidy themselves up, as if they haven’t just been caught red-handed going at it like a pair of horny teenagers in the bathroom of a school they graduated from over a year ago. Rachel avoids eye contact with both of them, and Santana can’t tell if she’s ashamed about what’s just happened or simply embarrassed about being caught. Either way, it offends her. 

It should say something to Santana that those are her first thoughts, when Brittany is watching them so closely. Brittany, who Santana owes an answer to about their future, having put her own heart on the line only days earlier. Santana had been ready to give her one too. 

What now?

Brittany excuses herself politely and Santana barely gives Rachel a second look before chasing after her.

* * *

For all her knowledge of Brittany, Santana forgets what a fast runner she is. They are all the way out in the carpark by the time she catches up.

Brittany is calm, alarmingly so. She smiles at Santana, even as her heart visibly breaks. 

“Britt,” Santana starts, “I have no idea what that was.”

It’s hardly an explanation, but it’s not a joke either, so Santana is confused when Brittany laughs. The love of her life, her best friend, has just caught her kissing another girl and she’s _laughing._ When Santana frowns in confusion, it’s enough to bring Brittany’s focus back.

“I feel a little silly,” is all Brittany says. She shrugs, tucking her hands in her pockets and forcing another smile.

Brittany hides it well, but she’s humiliated. Santana feels a desperate urge to course correct.

“I want to be with you,” Santana is frantic, she tugs at Brittany’s arm until their fingers are entwining, “Britt, I want-”

“Rachel,” Brittany cuts her off. She’s firm, even as she strokes comforting circles into the palm of Santana’s hand, “You want Rachel.”

“That’s disgusting.” Santana bites back, entirely out of habit. Her stomach curls over in shame almost immediately afterwards, because nothing about it actually disgusts her at all, and she’s utterly petrified by that. Brittany just laughs again. 

It’s infuriating.

Then Brittany kisses her, on the lips, and it’s so reminiscent of the kiss they shared in the auditorium before Santana left for New York that she wants to cry. This was supposed to be the start of the next chapter of their lives, not the end. The thought of enduring another goodbye, when she’d been so ready to say hello again, is soul crushing.

As usual, Brittany reads her like a book.

“I meant what I said Santana. I still think we belong together,” Brittany rests their foreheads together, unwavering even in the face of such uncertainty, “I just need you to be absolutely sure when you decide to say it back.”

It feels like an accusation, and Santana becomes convinced the sky is falling, because there’ll never be a day in her life where she’s not absolutely sure of how much she loves Brittany and to be accused of anything otherwise is heartbreaking. Her best friend skulks away, and once again Santana thinks it must say something that she's floundered where she should’ve reassured. She just has no idea _what_ it says, or what any of it really means anymore.

Brittany turns around, sending one last fleeting glance her way before walking to her car.

“Take your time.”

* * *

When Santana stumbles upon Rachel running lines in the auditorium the next day, she genuinely contemplates fleeing before she’s noticed. But Rachel catches her, and Santana’s never felt so much like a deer in the headlights as she does now. 

“You certainly are dedicated.” 

It’s a feeble conversation starter, but somehow it works anyway. Rachel puts her script aside, bracing herself against the piano as if she’s just been gutted. Santana approaches slowly, fighting the natural inclination to run every step of the way.

The thought of addressing the incident in the bathroom without preamble is overwhelming, so Santana avoids it. 

“I don’t want to steal Funny Girl from you Rachel,” she finds herself saying instead, and every part of her knows it to be true.

Rachel considers that carefully for a moment, then shrugs, “I believe you.”

In a moment of bravery, or perhaps sheer stupidity, Santana pushes on. Because she’s not done yet, and if she’s going to lose Brittany over whatever this stupid thing is then she needs to go all in, “It hurt. When you thought that’s what I was doing. It hurt.”

“And that's why you’ve been so awful to me lately?” Rachel probes, but it’s clear in her voice she’s reached her own conclusion already, “Were you trying to prove a point or something? Message received, loud and clear.”

“I'm sorry,” Santana apologises, because she means it, “I guess I thought we were past all that high school crap. It kind of pissed me off how quickly you assumed the worst. Maybe I got a little petty about it...”

Rachel nods, then hesitates. When she finally looks back at Santana, there’s a sense of vulnerability about her that Santana’s not wholly prepared for, “We should probably talk about that thing in the bathroom yesterday too, right?”

As inevitable as it was that they’d be addressing it, Santana still gets the wind knocked out of her the moment the words leave Rachel’s mouth. It’s posed as a question, and Santana finds that unbelievably cruel because she has no answers. 

“What is there to say?”

Rachel hoots. Like, actually hoots. As if she’s an owl, or something, “Nothing, I suppose. If that’s how dismissive you’re going to be about it.”

It’s callous, and cold. Rachel's walls have gone up, which is something Santana would expect from herself more than Rachel, but in a weird way it makes sense that she’d close off too. In moments like these, they’re far too similar for Santana’s liking. It unnerves her how comforted she is by that.

Santana pauses, because her words don’t always come out like she wants them to, and this feels like one of those moments where she should think a little bit more first, in case she gets it wrong. 

“It’s not nothing,” she manages eventually. It’s weak, but it's all she’s got. It's all she knows at this point. 

Rachel accepts it, nodding quietly. When she speaks, it comes out as less than a whisper, “It’s not nothing to me either.”

An overwhelming sense of relief surges through Santana’s body at Rachel’s admission, and even after confessing the same for herself it takes her completely by surprise. She stumbles back almost comically, instinctively reaching for Rachel’s hand to steady herself without considering the ramifications. 

The touch brings with it a tantalising jolt of electricity, and Santana is kissing Rachel again before she can stop herself.

Rachel kisses back with intent, but it’s not frenzied, or hungry like last time. It’s gentle, tentative. Santana feels it in herself as much as she does Rachel. 

She’s terrified. 

The school bell rings, and Rachel is the first to pull away. She regards Santana bashfully, and suddenly all they’ve been through together is gone. They’re the dwarf and the cheerleader again, and Rachel is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Santana resents it as much as she understands it. 

Words fail her, because what reassurance can you give when nothing makes sense? Santana tugs Rachel back in until their bodies are pressed flush against each other, and hopes that says enough for the time being. They fit together like lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle nobody was looking for, and when Santana kisses Rachel this time, it feels like the world is ending. 

In a way, they both wonder if it might be.

_“In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn.” -_ Octavia Butler


End file.
